


golden afternoon

by wildcard_47



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/pseuds/wildcard_47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from a fanfic prompts list where you had to write a story based on a pairing and a single word: Lane/Joan, "spring."</p>
            </blockquote>





	golden afternoon

The third weekend in March brings in an unseasonably warm spell.

Saturday morning, they’re taking a walk around the block by Lane’s apartment, arm-in-arm, crossing over the street toward Sutton Square, when Joan spies a verdant flower box sticking out from the first-floor window of a small townhouse. The tendrils of an ivy plant are waving gently in the wind. She has to shield her mouth with a gloved hand to hide a sudden laugh.

“What’s so funny?” 

Lane’s looking at her with a bemused expression; his glasses are perched low on the bridge of his nose.

“Oh—something silly,” she says, dropping her hand.

He’s frowning at her in a way that means _tell me_ , so she continues.

“Wednesday night, I caught Kevin talking to the potted plant in the corner of the living room. He was just…sitting next to it on the carpet with some toys, poking at the leaves, making conversation. It’s named Milo, apparently. It likes cars.”

“Oh,” Lane’s chuckling, now, and reaches over to pat her hand, which is resting gently in the crook of his bicep. “That’s very dear.”

She snorts out an amused noise. “You don’t think he’s lonely, do you? Making friends with the houseplants?”

“No, the lad’s in preschool, isn’t he?” They stop on the corner to wait out a red light, which lets her see Lane’s face. The corners of his mouth keep twitching up in a grin, although he’s trying to stay serious as he says, “Perhaps it’s cabin fever.”

Joan laughs again. “Maybe it’s because I took him to see a movie with singing flowers.”

Thankfully, the subject of movies gets their conversation flowing in a more interesting direction, but on Monday morning, when she gets to work, there’s a small potted cutting sitting on her desk, with a folded note tucked beside the outer lip of the ceramic pot.

_In the event your Milo needs a bit of company—I am told this one’s called Gilbert. xx_

Her mother’s going to be annoyed that there’s yet another plant to water—she complains she has a black thumb—but Joan still smiles over this for almost an hour. _Gilbert._ Of all the names Lane could have picked, he went with Gilbert.

A few minutes before the morning traffic meeting, she gets up from her usual place on the sofa, walks over to Lane, who’s reading paperwork behind his desk, and kisses his cheek, enjoying the surprised noise this elicits.

“What’s—brought this on?” he asks gruffly, turning pink as she walks back to her seat with a freshly sharpened pencil now in hand.

She shrugs, and smirks at him. “No reason. Happy spring.”


End file.
